Episode 12: Messenger is Missing

Social Media Artistry

Have you seen the wonderful social media posts our talented designer, Brandon O’Neill, has created, often featuring evocative, original photography of NYC by Joy Whitehurst? Check it out and please consider following us @messengerthenovel on Facebook and Instagram and  @messenger_novel on Twitter. 

 

Calling All Book Clubs

Want to discuss MESSENGER with your friends? Consider choosing MESSENGER: A Novel in 16 Episodes as one of your book club selections. Liz Keller Whitehurst would be happy to join your book club gathering as a virtual guest to discuss all things MESSENGER, to ponder some of the questions included in each episode description and to answer any questions you may have. Schedule your meeting by emailing Liz at [email protected]. It’s free!

 

Credits/Contacts

Author: Liz Keller Whitehurst: [email protected]For inquiries about MESSENGER or rights queries, 
contact April Eberhardt: [email protected]Book editor: Annie Tucker: [email protected]Podcast design/social media: Brandon O’Neill: oneillcreativeco.comPhotography: Joy Whitehurst: Instagram: @turquoisekoiAudio production and voice artist: Rachel Pater: richmondstoryhouse.orgOriginal music and sound direction: Wells Hanley: [email protected]Recording and audio editing: Lance Koehler: minimumwagerecording.comSpecial thanks to Wilson, Joy, Audrey and April

 

Find Us Online 

Website: messengerthenovel.comFacebook: facebook.com/messengerthenovelInstagram: instagram.com/messengerthenovelTwitter: twitter.com/messenger_novel

 

Questions to Ponder

Alana, worried about Messenger’s disappearance, quotes Jackie to Ed—“Messenger’s going to get burned.” What do you think Jackie meant? What is the extent of the danger?How does the relationship between Alana and Ed change? Why does it change in this way at this time? Were you surprised at Ed’s revelations? Why does he choose to reveal so much to Alana?Messenger’s disappearance pushes Alana’s buttons, which catapults the action forward. Were you surprised at Alana’s actions? Have you ever had a similar experience, where you acted from a place of deep hurt?Alana stands to lose a lot in this episode. What aspect of loss do you think is hardest for her to face?

 

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Episode 12 Complete Text  📖 
(Click here to access the PDF)

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MESSENGER IS MISSING

 

The next three days in a row, Alana searched but couldn’t find Messenger anywhere. The weather matched her mood—day after day of cloudy low pressure, a constant threat of rain. Winter would not let go.

            Alana tried to remain calm. You’re going with the flow, letting Messenger be Messenger, remember? This wasn’t the first time a few days had passed without her finding Messenger. Messenger would probably turn up when Alana least expected it and laugh at her for being worried. But just in case, she checked back in with Ed every day for reassurance. 

            On Day Four, after making her rounds, looking through the neighborhood, Alana smiled when she got to Ed’s and saw that business was light. He’d have time to talk. 

            “No Messenger?” Ed asked.

            “Nope.” 

            “She hasn’t been here, either.”

            Alana sighed. “Coffee, please.” She unbuttoned her coat and sat on the stool at the end of the drink bar. “What’s the longest you remember she’s ever gone missing?”

            “Oh, probably a week, I guess.” Ed handed Alana a coffee then turned to fill the grinder with beans. “Must be hard to keep moving forward with your project the way she comes and goes.”

            Alana cut her eyes. “This isn’t just about the project. Should I be worried?”

            “I don’t think so. I just know she always comes back. Did you ask The Flower Lady today?”

            Alana tried to focus on the wonderful smell of brewing coffee. “Yes! I’ve talked with everybody every single day she’s been gone. The Flower Lady, Ostap, The Professor. Shane. Even the lady with the Chihuahuas.”

            “Did she answer you?” Ed asked.

            “Are you kidding?”

            Ed laughed. “What about Jackie?” he asked.

            “Nope. Haven’t seen her.” 

            “Maybe they’re together.”

            “Maybe.” Alana sipped her coffee, paused, then added, “I’m probably overreacting, but I haven’t told you about something weird that happened last week. I saw Jackie in the Concourse.”

            Ed looked up from wiping down the counter. “All the way up there?”

            “Yeah. She was being unusually nice to me about the project, asked me a lot of questions, but then she turned dark.”

            “Jackie’s like that. Hot and cold. She can turn on a dime.”

            “No, it’s more than that. Jackie warned me that Messenger was playing with fire. That’s how she put it. Messenger was in danger, ‘was going to get burned.’ What do you think she meant?”

            “Beats me. Jackie is . . .. Jackie.” He shrugged. 

            Alana finished her coffee and slid off the stool. “You think I’m worrying about nothing?”

            “Give it more time. I bet she’s back here tomorrow.”

            Alana sighed. “I hope so! It’s just, if something happened to Messenger, I don’t know what I’d do!” She buttoned her coat and headed back out the door to keep looking for Messenger. 

            

By Day Seven, a whole week of combing the streets, searching in all their usual spots, asking and asking if anybody had seen Messenger, Alana had chewed her cuticles to shreds.

            “Listen, Ed. I’m getting worried, aren’t you?”

            “Not yet. She’ll turn up.” 

            Today Ed’s words did not reassure her. She suspected Ed was the kind of person that even if he was worried, he’d be slow to admit it. Alana took a breath before answering, so she wouldn’t snap. “It’s weird that she and Jackie are both suddenly missing. Something may have happened to them. Don’t you think we should call the police?”

            “What exactly would you tell them?” Ed asked. 

            Alana bristled at Ed’s always calm voice. “That Messenger’s missing, of course. Jackie, too.”

            “Messenger? Do you know her real name?”

            Alana’s heart dropped. “No. I don’t.”

            “Me neither.”

            “I see what you mean. But maybe we could give them a detailed description. They could at least keep an eye out.”

            Ed stopped washing dishes and focused on their conversation. “Don’t go to the police yet. Tell you what, when I get off later, I’ll go out and help you look, okay?”

            Alana relaxed slightly. “That would be great, but I have to be at work early today.”

            “Okay. I’ll go out myself.”

            “Will you text me if you find her?”

            “Sure.”

            “Okay. Great. Well, I guess I better give you my number.” 

            Ed fished his phone out of his back pocket. 

            They exchanged numbers as if it was the most natural thing in the world, but it felt intimate, somehow, having Ed’s cell phone number in her phone. It also felt good to worry with somebody else, even if Ed wouldn’t admit he was worried. Alana most definitely considered calling in sick so she could stay with Ed, wait for him to get off so they could search for Messenger together. She would have done it, too, if she’d had any cash to spare. 

 

ALANA’S NOTEBOOK

 

I don’t know what to do. It’s Day 9 and Messenger’s still missing. I never heard back from Ed, so I assume he didn’t find her, either. He was sweet to go looking. He tells me not to worry, not to go to the police, to wait, but I sense even Ed is getting worried. Jackie’s strange warning and the fact that she’s missing, too, haunts me. What did Jackie mean? That’s the first thing on my list to ask Messenger when she comes back. Is Jackie’s warning a part of this cloud that follows me around all the time, this sense of dread I don’t understand but can’t shake? I wake up exhausted every morning from nights full of dreams, mostly bad ones. Every nerve in my body feels like something bad’s about to happen. Has it already happened? To Messenger? Please, no!

            Of course, the project is on hold until we find her. I was going to ask if she’d agree to let me post, not the whole website, but just a few paragraphs and a photo of us together—to prove she’s real and I’m not just making all this up. That’ll have to wait. But waiting’s getting harder and harder. I know I promised Messenger I’d wait until she gives me the go-ahead, but I can only take so much. When she agreed to work with me on this project, I thought that meant I could count on her—that she’d stick around. And she has, up to now. But since she’s disappeared, I’m out here twisting on a limb. I can’t trust someone who just leaves.

            I’m so close! All I need is just a little more information and Messenger’s go-ahead. It would be so easy. If I could post the website, then write a query, I know I could land an agent who’d sell the book. Not to mention get me at least a little advance to live on. Because my financial disaster is definitely not on hold. If only. The only things keeping me off the streets are my credit limit and job at Tale of the Whale. I never thought I’d be that person. How long am I going to have the luxury to wait on Messenger?

 

MESSENGER’S GONE

 

Day 10. Messenger was still gone. Alana had passed from concern to worry to cold panic—not only about Messenger’s safety, but also about the project. On Day Eleven, Alana had gone to the police station on Fifth Street, tried to fill out a missing person report but ended up leaving most of it blank. She didn’t know the answers to most of the questions (name? address? next of kin?). That experience only added to Alana’s realization of how little she knew about the details of Messenger’s life. The Officer was nice, listened to everything she told him about Messenger and Jackie. “How can two women just disappear?” she’d asked him. He’d smiled and told her, “I’m sorry to say, Ma’am, it happens all the time. And, I have to ask you, have you considered this? Maybe they don’t want to be found.” 

            On Day 12, Ed agreed to help Alana go door-to-door on First Avenue, Fifth Street and all around the neighborhood to ask the store owners to post flyers in their windows. When Ed’s shift was over, they left together. Alana suddenly realized how seldom she’d seen Ed outside of his coffee shop. She couldn’t help glancing at him, over and over, as they walked. It was the same feeling she remembered whenever she’d see one of her elementary school teachers outside of school. 

            They headed down First Avenue. Alana held her flyers that asked anybody seeing Messenger to text or call. She’d included the terrible photo Marty took of Messenger, though she really didn’t think it would help. She regretted she’d never talked Messenger into letting her take a better one. 

            “Thanks for helping me with these,” Alana said to Ed. “Do you think it’ll make a difference?”

            “Hopefully,” Ed answered.

            “I also posted a similar one on my blog. At least it’s something we can do.”

            Despite her worry, Alana fell into a comfortable pace walking with Ed. People poured past them on both sides. Alana kept her eyes peeled for that tell-tale smudge of red—Messenger’s cap. But it was nowhere to be seen. As silly as it sounded, Alana had felt they’d crossed some threshold just having Ed’s cell phone number in her phone. But she also realized how little she knew about him. “Do you live around here, Ed?” 

            “Yeah. Over on Fifth Street. One of the buildings Ostap manages. He gives me a really good deal because I help him out with repairs and some of his super duties.”

            “Wow! Nice.”

            “Makes it easy for work. It’s amazingly small, but I don’t have much. You?”

            “Astoria. It’s cheap! That’s about all I can say.” 

            “Yeah. Guess we should get started handing out the flyers,” he said.

            “Okay. Do you think they’ll post them?”

            Ed nodded. “Most of the owners around here are nice about that kind of thing.”

            “Good. Ed, I’m really worried.” 

            “Well, Messenger’s nothing if not mysterious, with the messages and everything. Unpredictable. Remember when she found that word ‘clinamen’ and got so excited?”

            “Yeah, I know. Right?” Alana actually considered telling Ed she’d seen the CLINAMN license plate, too. She wanted to but didn’t. Ed might think she was out there, too, like Messenger. 

            They’d decided to walk down First Avenue all the way to Houston and then work their way back. When they got to Houston, Ed said, “I guess it’s more efficient if we split up.”

            Alana’s heart sank. “Yeah. Sure. You’re right.” She actually needed to hurry in order to get to Tale of the Whale in time for her shift. But there was a moment when she was handing Ed a stack of flyers. Ed took the stack in his right hand but when she went to hand him the tape, he tried to take it with the same hand and fumbled. The tape fell to the street and he grabbed her hand, instead.

            “Oops, sorry,” she said, but she didn’t let go until he did.

            Ed picked up the tape and dropped it into his black down jacket pocket. He put the flyers under his arm. “Good luck,” he said. He hesitated; he didn’t seem to want to split up, either. “If I have any news, I’ll text you.”

            “Okay. Thanks again, Ed. Let’s stay in touch.” Then she added, “About Messenger, I mean.”

            “Okay. Will do. And try not to worry.”

            “You, too.”

            He raised his hand in a wave and headed down the street.

 

The morning of Day 14, Alana trudged down First Avenue. Rain poured down, wind blew up underneath her umbrella, turning it inside out, so by the time she burst into Ed’s door, she was soaked. 

            But things were only going to get worse. The moment she’d dreaded but knew would come finally arrived. Alana ordered a coffee and noticed Ed paused after he’d swiped her card. 

            Ed handed her card back and blushed. “Uh, on me, today.” 

            “Ed?” Her throat tightened. 

            Ed turned and poured her coffee. “Here,” he said.

            “Really, Ed. You don’t have to . . .”

            He shook his head kindly. “No. It’s fine. Uh—sorry, but you need to know. Your card was declined.” He told her with the perfect combination of firmness and gentleness. 

            “Thanks. Must be a mistake,” she sputtered. Sweat formed on the back of her neck. “I’ll have to call the bank.”

            “Hey, I understand.” Ed sighed. “Believe me! Don’t worry about it.”

            “Ed—this is embarrassing to ask, but has it ever happened before?”

            Ed turned towards the next customer in line. “Third time,” he murmured. 

            Anxiety about Messenger’s disappearance mixed with her embarrassment and dread. What was she going to do—about all of it? Alana took the coffee and ducked out of the shop as fast as she could.

 

The next day, Day 15, still no Messenger. No news about her from the flyers or the blog. Alana had dug some ones and change out of her desk drawer and paid for her coffee in cash. She was grateful to know she could eat at Tale of the Whale before her evening shift. When she got to the coffee shop to check in, Ed wasn’t too busy and had time to talk. 

            “But Ed, what if Messenger can’t get back to us because she’s hurt. Or worse? Maybe we should call all the hospitals. Do you think they’d give me information about her if I’m not a family member? All I can figure, something terrible has happened. What if she’s gone for good? What if she doesn’t come back?”

            “I don’t think she’s gone for good,” Ed paused, then added. “I think there must be a reason. Look, back when I first quit drinking . . .”

            Alana’s face flushed at this revelation. Her knowing about Ed had been right!

            “I worked as a barista here for the former manager. You might have seen him here before. Older guy, he comes sometimes.”

            Alana thought she knew exactly who Ed was talking about.

            “I’d see Messenger on the street and I told her to come in for coffee.”

            “Did she give you a message?” Alana interrupted.

            “Nope. No message. But as we got to know each other, there was something different about her I came to recognize. Like a force field or something. Know what I mean?”

            Alana stared at Ed as if she was seeing him for the first time. She nodded. She knew exactly. “Oh, Ed.”

            “Anyway, I got to believe she’s okay, wherever she is. And if she’s gone away, she has a good reason.”

            “Like what?”

            “Beats me.” He smiled and turned back to his dishes. “Besides, if she was leaving, really leaving, she’d tell us goodbye.”

            On her way to work, Alana called Mary. She knew, unless Mary was in a meeting, she’d immediately pick up. “Hey, can you talk?” Alana asked.

            “Sure. What’s up?”

            “It’s Messenger. She’s gone.” 

            “Gone? Oh, no! You mean . . .”

            “No! Not dead. At least I hope not.” Alana shivered. The wind was catching her between buildings. “She’s disappeared and we can’t find her anywhere.” Tears filled Alana’s eyes.

            “How long has she been gone?”

            “Fifteen days!”

            “Oh, no!”

            “Yeah. We’ve done everything we can to find her. I even put up flyers.”

            “Well, hopefully she’ll come back. Listen, did you do what I told you and go easier on her?”

            “Yes, I did. I really did. I’ve never been so patient in my life. And look where it’s gotten me. Are you saying you think I scared her off?”

            “Chill, Alana. No. I know you’re upset. What about your project?”

            “I don’t know.”

            “Didn’t you tell me you had a website ready to go? Couldn’t you go ahead and launch it? Maybe that would bring you some clues about where she’s gone. If she’s still delivering messages and all.”

            “She said not to. To wait.”

            “But she’s gone, right?”

            Alana’s mind sprang into action at Mary’s suggestion, playing out different scenarios if she were to post.

            “Think about it,” Mary continued. “At least you could get something out of all this work. Just an idea. Listen. I’ve been meaning to check back with you. How’s it going with your . . . you know, your money situation.”

            “It’s just fine,” Alana lied. “I took on some more shifts at the restaurant.”

            “If you need a little help . . .” Mary’s voice was soft and gentle.

            “I know. No. Thanks.”

            “Think about it. Sorry, but I’ve got to go.”

 

On Day 16, Alana sat at the drink bar at Ed’s waiting for him to finish serving the line. As far as she could tell, Messenger was gone and she wasn’t coming back. Period. But where was she? She had to be somewhere. They’d heard nothing from the police, the hospitals, the flyers, nobody in the neighborhood. Nobody. Alana just couldn’t believe Messenger would choose not to be in touch with them, as Ed had suggested the day before, for any reason. What reason could justify that? A tightness gripped her chest. Oh, well, Alana. What did you expect? a voice inside her scolded. Everybody leaves you in the end.

            After Ed tried, once again, to reassure her, Alana snapped, “But what if you’re wrong, Ed? And why are you defending her? You don’t know anything about her. None of us do, really.” Alana looked harder at him. “Unless you do and you’re not telling me. Is that what this is about?” Frustration and anger rose up and choked her. “Was all this part of the plan? Did she tell you to let me down easy? She couldn’t break it to me herself, so she got you to do it?”

            “No!” Ed interrupted. “That’s not it at all.”

            Alana wouldn’t give Ed the satisfaction of looking at him. 

            “Listen to me,” he continued. “I’m worried, okay? She’s like a mother to me, too. I’m used to her checking in with me every day.”

            “What do you mean?”

            Now Ed stared down at the counter. “She’s been working with me on—a project, too.”

            Alana knew he was hedging when he wouldn’t make eye contact.

            “What kind of project?” Her voice was sharp. 

            “There are things you don’t understand . . .”

            “Then tell me, Ed.”

            “Uh! You sound just like my wife!”

            “Your what?” Alana’s unbelieving eyes searched Ed’s. 

            “Ex! Ex-wife. A long time ago. I’m sorry but I can’t tell you any more about Messenger.”

            Alana stared. I know nothing about him, she realized. “Why can’t you?”

            “I promised Messenger.”

            Why does it feel like I’m fighting with my boyfriend? “That’s not good enough,” she snapped. “I’m done!”

            “Wait! Alana!”

            Even in angry motion storming out of the coffee shop, a part of Alana registered Ed had called her by her name for the first time. She ignored it, slammed the door and stomped down First Avenue, headed to the train. What a fool you are! They’ve all been working against you from the start. She never lifted her broken umbrella, just let the downpour soak her to the skin. 

            A wife? A wife! Who drops something like that, just out of the blue? What other secrets has Ed been hiding? She fumed.Alana had no idea, really, what was going on between Ed and her. Was it just a love of Messenger that they shared? Or more? But Alana knew one thing. She needed to find out a whole lot more about him, about his ex-wife, for starters, before they went any further.

            Alana looked up ahead on First Avenue and spied Jackie’s cheetah-print booties. She flew, dodging people as best she could. “Jackie!” she called over the street noise. “Jackie!” Jackie must not have heard her because she continued clomping down the street. But Alana was faster. Jackie jumped when Alana tapped her shoulder, spun around. Alana recognized from her closed face that Jackie hadn’t meant to be found.

            “Hey, there, Sugar. Sorry, but I’m in a big hurry today! Gotta go!” She turned.

            Alana grabbed her arm. “No, wait. Where have you been? Where’s Messenger?”

            Jackie pulled away from Alana but didn’t run. “She’s gone.”

            “I know she’s gone! We’ve been worried sick! Ed and I’ve been looking for her for over two whole weeks. Do you know where she is?”

            Jackie held her face completely still. Unreadable. 

            Alana wasn’t having it. “Answer me, Jackie!” People passing stared at Alana’s raised voice, but Alana didn’t care.

            “Messenger is fine. You don’t have to worry.”

            Fury rose in Alana like a flame. “So you do know where she is. Why won’t you tell me?”

            “I can’t.” 

            “You won’t!”

            “You’re just going to have to let her go. For now. It’s for the best.”

            “When is she coming back? Tell me!”

            “I can’t really say.”

            “She’s not coming back. That’s it, isn’t it? She’s left me.”

            “No, not exactly. Settle down . . .”

            “No! I know it.” Alana gasped. A sob, like jagged glass, cut her throat. “That’s what you’re saying. Messenger’s gone.”

            Alana didn’t really remember getting on the train, riding back to Astoria, climbing the steps to her apartment. Her heart raced, sweat covered her back, even in the raw cold. She couldn’t catch her breath. Messenger’s gone. She’s really gone. Messenger’s betrayal, abandonment, her own desperate money problems, her jealousy of Ed and Messenger’s close relationship, her insecurities about her talent, that she’d just wasted all this time on Messenger to be left with nothing, her credit card bouncing, embarrassing her in front of Ed, her hurt that Messenger would leave her alone—all these thoughts chased her around her apartment. Ed and Messenger were against her. Jackie and Messenger were against her. Alana was mad at all of them, everybody, but mostly was furious with herself. She sat down at her desk, picked up the plastic ballerina and held it in her hand. I really thought I could find a way to pull this off. I felt it, like a knowing. In my body, in my heart. In my gut. Like I was born to do it. Born to write this book, to let the world know about Messenger. 

            Alana thought back to the conversation with Jackie. She’d tried to hedge, but Alana understood what the message really was. Messenger had left her. She was gone. She wasn’t coming back. Ever! This was it. The end. 

            All of Alana’s good intentions evaporated. They were built on the assumption that Messenger would help her. That she was an active part in the project. That she had more to give. All that had changed now that Messenger was gone. Do something! Fish or cut bait. As Alana saw it, she had only one option. It was probably lame, probably wouldn’t end up amounting to anything. But at least it was something.

            She didn’t hesitate. She opened her computer. Pushed a few buttons. She posted The Messenger Files website. 

            Afterwards, Alana sat very still at her desk. She noticed one of the flyers she’d made in her trash can, staring up at her with Marty’s photo on it. That photo had started everything. Memories of Messenger, the times they’d spent together filled her. Then something very strange happened. First, she felt a fullness, then a sharp stab in her heart. It shocked her. I’m too young for a heart attack, aren’t I? Then, a buzzy flow of energy surged through her body. Electric. Then words, all these words flooded her brain. A sea of words. The few of them she could make out—love, trust, protection, peace—mixed with many others she couldn’t quite catch. It was like she was listening to snippets of conversations running in and out but couldn’t make sense of the patterns or find a connection she could grasp. Words, words, words. Then it stopped, as abruptly as it had begun. She shook. She had never felt so out of control, feared she was having a stroke. Alana held her head between her hands, managed to stand and walk the few steps to the bathroom, splashed water on her face. 

            Even though it was still raining, Alana decided to take a walk around the block to clear her head, to hopefully get her bearings, before she had to go to work. She had never wished more to call in sick, but that wasn’t an option. Still shaky, Alana stepped out onto her apartment stoop, opened her broken umbrella, one side sagging, and headed slowly down the stairs. On the sidewalk, Alana turned, noticed a car parked along the curb. Its forest green color caught her eye first, bright, even in the gray day. Strong shivering vibrations ran through her entire body. Her old trick of clamping her jaw shut tight couldn’t stop her chattering teeth. The Mini-Cooper. License plate, CLINAMN. What was happening? Another sign? Of what? Alana had no idea.

 

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